Rhabdophobia 33
by Oblong features
Summary: Fear of sexual abuse. Fear of accidents. Fear of looking at myself in the mirror. Contreltophobia. Dystychiphobia. Eisoptrophobia. Fear of people. Fears of getting beaten. Sociophobia. Rhabdophobia. A pairing you've never seen! Including a BTAS Joker!
1. Chapter 1

Fear is one of those things that is very easy to succumb to but very hard to explain. For someone that's never been afraid before, explaining the feeling you get when you're truly, truly terrified is one of the hardest things in the world to recount. Luckily, I have not met a single person that has not experienced fear at least once in their lives. Even my fellow inmates have experienced fear. It's very interesting to learn a person's fears; the more you know about the fear, the more you know about the person themselves, not just who they project to the world.

The Joker has a fear of not being funny, a fear of failure; _atychiphobia_.

Poison Ivy has a fear of blood and a fear of death, _hemaphobia _and _thanatophobia_. Many people have a fear of death— it's commonplace in today's society.

Mr. Freeze has atychiphobia as well, along with a fear of loneliness, _eremophobia__._

The Mad Hatter has a fear of being dirty— filth and all that, _automysophobia._

And Harvey Two Face has a fear of making decisions, _decidophobia._

And me?

I have no fears!

And no, contrary to popular belief I am not afraid of bats. God, no, I'm not afraid of bats.

Even before I began my experiments, I never had a fear of my fears.

_Counterphobia._

At least I don't think so.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, I'm officially b-fucking-ored,"

"I completely agree."

"What's there to do around here aside from play cards, get psychoanalyzed and plot our escapes?"

"Not much else, apparently..." Harvey sighed and looked out the window of the cell he shared with the Joker. He sat in a metal chair, legs crossed professionally, but the Joker was flung over his chair, upside down and backwards. They had been in Arkham for such a long time that the only thing they could think of doing was sit in chairs in interesting fashions, which was inevitably not ridding them of previously stated problem. The side of Harvey's face chiseled with Abricrombie features and a Hugh Laurie blue eye turned to the cell across the hall (so did the other side, but no one wants to hear about that). He stared at the one-person cell that was supposed to be inhabited by Johnathan Crane, but he was missing. Captured a few days before, he was being held in solitary confinement; a padded cell. Doctors thought he was having auditory hallucinations, because whenever he fell asleep he would mutter to himself about God knows what, but Harvey would figure this out for himself when Johnny got back. He looked an awful lot like a girl, too, with this great hair and great eyes. His eyes were even better than Harvey's, just this insane blue, like the kind of blue that would make you want to kill him and bury him in the floorboards, those kinds of eyes, with this gorgeous hair you could just run your fingers through, sweet and thick, perfectly smooth all the-

"...so then, after the cream pie, he'd-hey, are you even listening to me?" The Joker shrieked, sitting up in his chair the correct way out of frustration. Looks like Harvey had thought more about Crane than he had intended. "It seems like you're more flakey than usual. I was hoping you'd be the only other _sane_ person here, someone I could have a conversation with, but NO! You have to go off into your own little world..."

"So what, you're saying that you don't have _your_ own little world?" Harvey responded with a sexy smirk of his male model half-lips.

"Oh, I never said _that_, but I'm just saying that your little world is becoming a bother to mine. So turn off the little 'Harveyland' switch and listen when I talk!" The Joker said, pouting like a child.

"Mmm... Sorry. I was just thinking."

"About Scarecrow?"

"His name is Crane." Harvey squinted.

"Actually, no, that's only half of his name," The Joker winked. "Does someone have a man-crush?"

"Of course not." Harvey said, jerking his head to fling back his hair and thinking of Rachel. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. "He's a good friend. I care about him. You know what I mean. When I was locked up for a few weeks that one time last May, you were freaking out like nobody's business." The Joker shrugged and crossed his legs, but lacking the manly disposition and legal training Harvey had, he looked more girly than sophisticated.

"That's foolish! You owed me a few bucks, that's all, and if you went crazy that'd be a handful of money I'd really be missi-" The Joker began. A buzzer sound made the two of them jump and down the hall came Dr. Jonathan Crane in a straightjacket and shackles on his legs.

-

I remember one time when I treated a patient that eventually went on suicide watch. He was put in a straightjacket and set down in a rubber room and let there for a few days. He was becoming a bit out of hand and I figured I'd use him to my advantage, so as not to waste anything, you know, so I sprayed some fear gas on him and he hallucinated that his blood was made of tar. It was bubbling and sizzling underneath his skin and he tried to cut himself to release the tar. It didn't-well, technically it worked, he killed himself. It was very interesting.

I think I stayed in the room to the left of him. He died far before I stayed in the room to the left of him.

I recall what I was feeling as I walked down the hallway towards my cell. I heard the Joker talking and I heard the Hatter and Ivy and a few others talking, all about me, that's what they do when I walk by. But I couldn't hear Harvey, I knew he was talking though, because I was looking right at him and his mouth was moving and everything.

I need to get a fucking hold of myself.

The cell block was just as I remembered it, with my cell just as I remembered it and just as I kept it. I insist upon having my psychology books with me. Time at Arkham passes very slowly and every second I'm not learning something or doing something productive is a second I'm turning into what they want me to be, "cured". That's one of the silliest notions I could ever possibly think of. I am not insane.


End file.
